


Glowing Like Metal on the Edge of a Knife

by problematic_pleasures



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Barebacking, Established Relationship, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Trans Carl Grimes, Trans Male Character, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 01:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13447629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematic_pleasures/pseuds/problematic_pleasures
Summary: They’ve never gone further, though, and Negan’s always respected that. Carl knows Negan would continue to respect that boundary, if he asked.Carl is a little shy.





	Glowing Like Metal on the Edge of a Knife

**Author's Note:**

> i felt inspired to write some trans carl smut! this is just random; i wrote it with carl being seventeen/eighteen in mind but i never specify so, do what you like. this fic may vary from your trans experiences, so, i guess, just keep that in mind. (edited to add: someone mentioned that the setting for this fic isn't clear, so i'm just prefacing the fic with the fact that this is set sometime in the canon universe, slightly divergent in that carl and negan end up together, but nothing specific!) 
> 
> title comes from [paradise by the dashboard light by meatloaf](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C11MzbEcHlw) bc that seems like a negan-type song.

Carl looks away when Negan’s greedy hands fall to the hem of his shirt.

“Kid?” His gruff voice, soft and warm against Carl’s ear, belies his concern.

It takes every ounce of willpower not to shrug out of his touch, not that he has anywhere to go. He’s backed up against the overly plush bed in Negan’s room, with Negan pressed all along his front. He’d have to crawl across the bed or shove Negan away to make any kind of escape. Besides, he doesn’t necessarily _want_ to escape. He just doesn’t want to be here, either.

“We can stop,” Negan says, leaning back. He’s already left an obnoxious amount of lovebites across Carl’s jaw and neck, but his hands stop fiddling with the hem of Carl’s shirt. He holds him by the hips instead, and the grip grounds Carl, brings his head down from panic-hazed clouds. “Say the word.”

Carl sighs through his nose and closes his eye. “I don’t want to stop.”

Despite that, Negan doesn’t try to disrobe Carl again. “Kid.”

Carl rolls his eye. “Stop calling me that,” he chides. “It’s nothing, c’mon.” He tilts his head back and breathes with relief when Negan deigns to kiss him. Kissing is good, familiar. They’ve kissed plenty of times before; they’ve spent hours kissing until Carl’s vagina was soaking wet and his lips sore to the touch. They’ve never gone further, though, and Negan’s always respected that. Carl knows Negan would continue to respect that boundary, if he asked.

Negan breaks the kiss and pins Carl with a look. “Tell me,” he commands quietly.

Carl leans out of his embrace and sighs again. “I haven’t told you…” Carl bites his lip and shivers when Negan trails a hand over his face, tucking hair behind his ear. “I haven’t told you the truth, necessarily.”

Negan raises an eyebrow. “Really now.” He’s amused, clearly, and his tone is artfully flat.

Carl scowls. “If you’re gonna be an ass—?”

“Baby, I am _always_ an ass, you know that.”

Carl huffs; he does know that, and he hates how fond he feels. His chest warms with the thought, and his scowl slides away into a reluctant grin. “I—I don’t know if you’ve noticed…” He thinks Negan _must_ have noticed; the hours they’ve spent making out, as though there’s nothing else in the world to spend their time doing, make Carl’s lack of a proper dick painfully apparent. More than once Carl has caught sight of Negan’s sizeable bulge straining at the front of his jeans and teetered between desire and envy.

Negan doesn’t jump in or try and finish the sentence. He waits patiently, watching Carl intently.

“I’m a boy.” Carl says suddenly and defiantly.

Negan chuckles. “Oh, shit, kid. I know that.” His grin is lewd and his thumbs slip under Carl’s shirt to tease the jut of his hips.

Carl curses the blush staining his cheeks, but he can’t help feel immeasurably pleased when Negan sounds so pleased, so delighted. “I’m a boy,” he says again, softer. “But…” He swallows and wonders why it’s so hard to get the words out. It wasn’t hard to tell his father, or Beth, or Maggie or Enid or Michonne—but this? This is hard. Half of him is sure Negan will mock him; the other half is readily anticipating crude comments in abundance.

Carl blinks and Negan has moved closer again. “Carl,” he says, voice deep and sure. “I don’t give a fuck what kind of equipment you got.” His hands slide further under Carl’s shirt. “Tits or no tits, cock or no cock. Don’t give a fuck.”

Carl shudders as Negan’s fingertips finally skirt to edge of his pectoral. Malnourishment has left him underdeveloped, in a way he’s always appreciated. He’s got the slightest amount of fat on his chest, but nothing like true breasts. Carl ignores the flicker of anxiety when Negan pulls away, and lets the older man strip him of his shirt, finally.

“Don’t give a fuck,” Negan breathes reverently. His huge hands come to cup Carl’s chest and his thumbs toy with his pert nipples. The constant attention sends shocks of pleasure through Carl’s body and he starts to squirm quickly. “So responsive.” Negan hums appreciatively. “Wonder how loud you’d get if I got my mouth on ya.”

Carl moans immediately and pushes his chest forward. “Oh, fuck.”

Negan grins. “Well, now I _gotta_ try.” He drops to his knees and secures his lips around one of Carl’s nipples. He sucks gently and tongues the stiff peak at odd intervals, a rhythm Carl can’t predict. He bites down on the tender flesh and sucks, and when he pulls back the skin is marred with a blooming hickey. “Very nice.” Negan murmurs to himself before giving the same treatment to Carl’s other nipple. Once they’re both flushed and tender he flicks them with his thumbs again, then finally pulls back.

“Can I?” He asks after Carl’s caught his breathing again. His hands are at the waistband of Carl’s jeans and hovering over the button and zipper. Carl chokes on his next inhale and panic freezes the lust in his veins. “I don’t have to,” he says and kisses Carl’s stomach apologetically. It’s disarmingly sweet and Carl shivers. “I promise I can make it real nice for you though, Carl. Like nothing you’ve ever felt.”

The panic squeezing Carl’s chest like a vice loosens. “Since I haven’t done anything with anyone else, that’s kind of a given.”

Negan grins. “Point still stands.” He licks his lips and kisses Carl’s stomach again, nibbles on the excess skin gently. “Let me show you how good it can feel, huh?” He looks up at Carl, his mouth still pressed sweetly to his pale skin, and waits.

Carl hardly has to think about it before he nods and cants his hips forward. He helps Negan undo his button and zipper; together they shove the worn denim down his thighs until it bunches at his ankles, and Negan helps him step out of it. Negan bats his hands away and draws the boxer briefs down his body slowly, following them with his mouth and peppering kisses over every inch of Carl’s exposed skin. He helps Carl step out of those too, and then he’s completely exposed.

Negan whistles softly. “Look at that.” He grins up at Carl then moves in swiftly. He reaches out and brings a single fingertip to Carl’s cock. Carl repeats it firmly in his mind, wonders if he should tell Negan to call it that. The touch drives all thoughts and most of the anxiety out of his head, though, and Carl melts against the bed. Negan plays with the small, pert nub until Carl is shaking under the attention. Smirking, he replaces his finger with his mouth and laves his tongue over the hot and hard skin. Carl whines and widens his stance so Negan can move closer.

“Can I?” He asks again, this time with a finger poised at Carl’s lips, ready to push into him but waiting obediently. Carl doesn’t hesitate to nod and Negan’s delighted growl is worth it. He spreads Carl’s labia with one hand and pushes into him with his finger, slow and sure. It’s thick, far thicker than Carl’s own fingers the few times he’s tried. It aches just a little, but in a way that makes Carl crave _more_.

Negan, satisfied as he starts to pump his finger in and out of Carl, leans forward again to suckle at his cock. It’s teasing licks following by hot breath and Carl gasps for air each time Negan’s tongue and finger move in tandem. Negan hums against him and Carl’s knees buckle; he knots one hand in the bed sheets and the other in Negan’s hair for support.

“Could you come like this?” Negan murmurs against his skin. His eyes are trained on Carl’s face, and his smirk is still firmly in place but it’s not half as annoying as it usually is. Carl shrugs, because he’s honestly not sure. “You close? Are your toes curlin’, kid?”

Carl whines. “I don’t—I don’t know.” He closes his eye and uses his grip in Negan’s hair to ground himself again. “I haven’t done this a lot.”

Negan hums thoughtfully. “What about…” He tilts his hand between Carl’s thighs and strokes the rough pad of his finger over a spot just inside Carl’s vagina. He does it over and over until Carl’s hips are jumping to meet the relentless onslaught. “Ah yeah, there we go.” Negan nods appreciatively. “That right there is the g-spot, Carl. It’s about the best god damn thing in the book, aside from your pretty little cock.”

Carl moans and finally cracks his eye open. “Wh-what?”

“G-spot,” he says again, moving his finger faster. “Gonna have you fallin’ apart in a few minutes.” With that, Negan puts his mouth to Carl’s skin again. His tongue moves in insistent circles around the heated skin; each time he pulls back just enough to breathe, he pushes his finger harder and faster. “C’mon, let’s get one outta you, then I can show you a couple other fun things. Lemme hear you, kid.”

Carl keens and finally falls back onto the bed. He hitches one leg over Negan’s shoulder and digs his heel into the older man’s back to draw him closer. The endless heat against his cock and the thick but not-quite-enough pressure of Negan’s finger are overwhelming and his mind is hazy, but when Negan moans and the vibrations run through Carl like a freight train, it’s all over. Carl thrusts against Negan’s face as he starts to come, a still mostly unfamiliar feeling. He clenches around Negan’s finger and wishes it was thicker, deeper.

“Fuck!” He shouts as a powerful wave hits him and crests. “Fuck, _Negan_!”

Still working his finger, Negan pulls back to speak. “That’s right, say my name.”

“God,” Carl gasps, irate. “You’re such a fucking— _shit_ —asshole.” His chest heaves as the pleasure wanes from tsunami waves to a steady trickle. “Such a dick,” he hisses as he sits up and reaches for Negan. He tugs lightly on Negan’s hair until the older man rises to the perfect height to steal a kiss.

“Not denying that, but I am a dick that got you to come harder than you ever have in your fucking life, huh?”

Carl snorts, but can’t help a nod. “Yeah,” he agrees, still a little breathless.

Negan looks far too pleased. “On to the next part. Get up on the bed.” When Carl doesn’t move right away, Negan slaps at his thigh. “C’mon, I wanna get my dick wet and I wanna see you forget your own name.”

Carl doesn’t quite scramble up the bed but he falls onto the pillows with an ‘ _oof_.’ He watches Negan undress, bites his lip when Negan leaves the jeans hanging off his hips rather than taking them off entirely. He crawls onto the bed and slots himself between Carl’s open thighs. The biting chill of his zipper feels like electric shocks against Carl’s bare skin, and he pushes into the touch, eager for more.

“God, kid. You are somethin’ else. Fucking divine.” Negan dips down and suckles at Carl’s tit again, reminding him how tender he still is. Carl squirms and brings a hand to Negan’s head with in the intention of pushing him away but only succeeds in gripping his hair again. “Go ahead, grip it tight. You’re in for one hell of a ride.”

Carl laughs though it devolves into a yelp when Negan takes him by the hips and angles him upward. He watches with wide eyes as Negan draws his own heavy cock from his jeans—no underwear, predictable, Carl doesn’t know how he can stand something so uncomfortable—and starts to stroke. “What, not hard enough yet old man?”

Negan chuckles darkly. “Clearly haven’t done a good enough job if you’re still running that smart mouth.” He leans over Carl and digs around in the bedside table. He comes back with a bottle of lube and squeezes a dollop into his head. Mesmerized but not entirely dazed, Carl watches.

“Am I not—is it not enough?”

Negan grins again but it’s softer. “Nah, you’re soaking wet. But a little extra lube never hurt nobody.” He smears the lube over his dick while holding Carl’s gaze. Once his cock is glistening in the low light, he brings two fingers to Carl’s vagina and rubs the excess off against Carl’s hole. “Is your cunt ready? Think you can take it?”

Carl flushes and writhes again. “That’s—?”

“Don’t get shy on me now. You’ve got the nicest fuckin’ pussy I’ve seen. And you know I’m gonna make this good for you.” He pushes his hips forward and the head of his cock brushes over Carl’s lips, and he shivers. “You still wanna do this?” Negan asks, body suddenly halted and voice gentle.

“I do.” Carl says it, voice shaking but still defiant. He sits up on his elbows and aims a glare at Negan. “Don’t start treating me like a child now.” He reaches out and skirts his hand around Negan’s cock; he strokes him lightly, loosely, until Negan’s hips are jumping forward.

Negan shudders and pushes Carl’s hand away. “Alright, alright, you’ve convinced me.” He winks and laughs under his breath. He pushes Carl’s thighs apart a little more and shuffles forward on his knees. Carl inhales sharply at the pressure against his entrance, and Negan whistles lowly. It catches Carl attention and he meets Negan’s gaze quickly. “S’gonna feel weird, but it shouldn’t hurt. You tell me if it hurts, alright?”

Carl nods. He reclines back a bit as Negan starts to push forward. It takes a moment for the head of Negan’s dick to pop past the ring of muscle. Carl gasps and tries to arch away from the intrusion but Negan holds him still with a single bruising hand on his hip. Carl doesn’t struggle much but enough for Negan to growl and hold him tighter.

“Does it hurt?” Negan asks in a strained voice.

Carl shakes his head immediately. “It’s just—a lot.”

Negan huffs. “I’ll give you that.” He thrusts forward a little more and makes a satisfied hum when Carl finally starts to relax. It’s easier for him to slide in, but he still goes slow, and Carl won’t say so but he’s thankful for it. It doesn’t hurt, but it _is_ a lot. Negan is thicker and hotter and harder than his fingers or Carl’s. He fills Carl up and the stretch aches even worse than the finger, but it’s good. It’s sold and unyielding and Carl whines as he faintly feels the unruly mess of Negan’s pubes brush against his cock. The hint of friction has Carl arching his back.

“How’s it feel?” Negan’s voice breaks through Carl’s thoughts.

“Really need me to stroke your ego?” Carl pants. He clenches around Negan’s dick and revels in the choked off gasp he gets in return. “How’s it feel?” Carl mimics.

“Feels like goddamn heaven, kid. Like your cunt was made for me.”

Carl tries to scowl but the lewd words send heat rushes through him against his will. He opens his mouth to retort but Negan’s hips pull back agonizingly slow, and then slam forward. It punches a moan from Carl’s lips, and he barely has a chance to catch the smug grin on Negan’s face before he starts to thrust at a punishing pace. He doesn’t give Carl time to adjust, doesn’t pause to check that Carl is okay—and that only makes it hotter.

People still treat Carl like glass sometimes; hell, Negan will do it on occasion, like he forgets who Carl is. Sometimes he’ll treat Carl like a wife rather than a soldier, just as Rick treats Carl like a boy instead of a man. This, here and now, Carl feels less like glass and more like steel forged in a flame. His skin is overheating and he can’t stop reacting to every electrifying touch. Negan is leaving purple fingerprint-shaped bruises on his hip and thigh, one hand each. His thrusts are relentless and Carl knows he’ll hurt tomorrow, and he’s looking forward to it.

“Shit, Carl,” Negan murmurs. He hunches over and Carl’s hands rise to cling to his chest. He toys with the coarse chest hair littering Negan’s chest, traces a faint tattoo over a pectoral. Carl looks up, feigning shyness, then drags his nails down Negan’s chest and wrings a pained cry from his lover. “Little fuckin’ shit.”

Carl beams and thumbs over the red welts. There’s no blood but they clearly sting; Negan doesn’t pull away despite the pain. He moves closer, fucks faster and harder. He looks focused with his eyebrows drawn together. Carl reaches out and secures a hand around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. As their lips finally connect, Negan lets go of Carl’s thigh. He taps the bruises-to-be playfully then slides his hand to Carl’s cock again and flicks at the oversensitive nub, deliberate in his carelessness.

“Fuck,” Carl whines as he tears his mouth away from Negan. “Do it again. Harder. C’mon, _do it_.” Carl wraps his legs tight around Negan’s waist.

“My pleasure.” Negan lets go of Carl’s hip and braces his elbow on the bed so his hips can move deeper. Carl shivers at the feeling of Negan’s balls slapping against his ass, the way excess lube has made everything sticky-slick between their bodies. He loses himself in the squelching wet sounds and Negan’s grunts, low and heavy and hot against Carl’s face. He digs his nails into Negan’s neck and bites at his lower lip.

Negan brushes his thumb over Carl’s cock teasingly at first, then harder and slower. He flicks it again and Carl winces, shivering at the pleasure-pain it ignites in his gut. Negan smirks and repeats the motion a few more times until Carl’s whimpers edge just this side of truly pained, then he soothes the hurt with long purposeful rubs of his thumb. He presses the flat of his thumb against Carl’s cock and rubs it fast and firm and it’s too much, Carl thinks, it’s pleasure but it’s not.

“You gonna come again?” Negan groans. His beard scratches against Carl’s cheek.

“Yeah,” Carl admits weakly. “You?”

“Oh fuck _yes_.” Negan leans and bites at Carl’s earlobe, tugs indelicately at the skin. “Right after you do.” He kisses Carl softly at first; he steals the moans from Carl’s mouth and bites his lower lip when Carl whines again. He bites the already kiss-swollen skin until blood is blooming just under the skin. The faintly metallic taste flits between them as Negan licks into Carl’s mouth. The tang of blood— _Carl’s_ blood on _Negan’s_ tongue—tips them both over the edge.

Carl comes first and his body goes tight like a bow. His knees dig in Negan’s ribs and his nails imprint crescents on Negan’s neck. He arches his back and hisses when his nipples brush the rough hair on Negan’s chest and the extra fissions on pleasure makes Carl see stars. Dimly, behind his own pleasure, he’s aware of Negan moaning softly and the odd sensation of his cock pulsing. Idly he thinks of the come spilling inside him, how they probably should’ve used a condom; the thought is illicit and dirty and Carl shudders as the last waves of his orgasm crash over him.

He comes out of the foggy haze of pleasure to Negan laying entirely on him. The denim is rough against his skin and he whines at the sensation. With a clumsy foot he shoves at the fabric until Negan gets the hint. He pulls back, slowly slipping from Carl’s well-used body, and shoves the jeans off his body and off the bed. He returns quickly and Carl marvels at the feeling of Negan’s soft prick against his thigh, the intimacy of it.

“Kid?”

Carl looks over just as Negan reaches out to brush hair back from his eye. “What?”

“You good? Not too sore?”

Carl pinks and can’t help his grin. “I’m fine. I—I think I’ll be sore tomorrow.”

Negan grins. “You know what’ll help that?”

“More fucking?”

Negan nods, proud. “I didn’t eat you out nearly long enough. You don’t even have any beard burn.” He reaches a hand between them and traces the soft skin of Carl’s inner thighs. “I’m not gonna stop till you’re pretty and red.”

Carl swallows. “Good.”

Negan laughs at the sharp, determined tone. “You are somethin’ else, kid. I’m gonna have _fun_ with you.”


End file.
